


The Mayfair Affair

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When Whitehall dumps a sticky problem in Kevin Richards' far-too-busy hands, he takes the opportunity to exact a little vindictive amusement from the situation.  Oh, he's sure Craig Garrison and his unruly team will handle the problem, but he foresees interesting times ahead for everyone involved.
Kudos: 2





	The Mayfair Affair

Major Kevin Richards had just about had enough! He had half a dozen flaming swords in the air that he was trying to juggle - three teams already in the field with a fourth due to be dispatched within the hour, one waiting to finalize the instructions before they departed at nightfall, one still up in the air as to destination, and now the imperious demand from Whitehall had just given him one more thing to deal with! And to hear Winslow tell it, Richards was supposed to focus entirely on this new project until he came up with a solution, never mind how disasterous it could prove if he took his mind off everything else he was trying frantically to keep in line.

Private Jeffrey Ames sat patiently, watching, listening to Richards respond with that very proper smile, that very proper voice that was the major's typical outward response to a situation that really called for a few hearty curses. So far, those he addressed it to hadn't seemed to have caught on, but it didn't seem healthy somehow. 

Of course, it REALLY wouldn't be healthy if the ones he addressed it to ever figured out the real meaning behind it all, but so far they hadn't. Jeffrey thought that a very depressing analysis of the intelligence they were depending on to win this war. I mean, really, if you couldn't tell the difference between someone's smile and tone telling you 'thank you, it's been a pleasure, and have a nice day' and that same smile and tone telling you to 'kindly go feck off, you miserable waste of my air'!

Sometimes, though, he thought his boss would be better off if he just let loose and DID manage a good round of cursing now and again. After all, Jeffrey's mother, Lady Ames, always claimed it was very theraputic. Of course, not at Whitehall, or the Palace, or those sort of places. Even here at HQ would be iffy. But sometimes, maybe in a dark closet somewhere. At midnight. In an empty building. Maybe located somewhere deep in the Scottish Highlands? Oh, well.

Now, searching his mind for a way to help, maybe release that tight rope of tension painfully surrounding a man he viewed as honorable and honest and quite admirable in a number of ways, but woefully uptight, Jeffrey ventured a quiet suggestion.

"You know, Major, Lieutenant Garrison and his team just got back. I should think THEY could straighten things out for you. With Lord Beasley, I mean."

Richards looked at his Aide in total disbelief. "You want me to sent Garrison and his unruly lot into the home of one of the most pompous, stick-up-his-arse, Lords in Mayfair? To root around in his personal and professional business? Free to roam his house where he keeps all those valuable collections he's so proud of? 

"I've had more than enough experience with the man, Jeffrey. He makes you feel quite unwelcome if you stop by on business, even. Made me stay in the entry hall the last time I had the unfortunate occasion to call on him; didn't even have the courtesy to offer me a seat the whole time, much less coffee or a drink, and the discussion lasted more than an hour. And I was there under orders from Whitehall!

"Disregarding all ELSE, there's the new Lady Beasley, and the Beasley daughters, AND that prime bit of muslin his Lordship has placed so conveniently close at hand; there's no more attractive a bevy of females in London, to my way of thinking. Even his female staff are all extremely delectable, from what his file would indicate. He's always very careful not to encourage ANY males being around any of them, at least not any over twelve or under eighty. Garrison and his crew would probably give him an apoplexy at first sight!

"Can you imagine - "

There was a prolonged silence, during which the major contemplated the likely results of introducing those particular men into that particular household. Then Richards reached into his bottom drawer, brought out a bottle and two glasses, poured two drinks, pushing one of them toward his Aide. There was a most unusual smile on the Major's face, one that spoke of some serious payback being considered, maybe on several counts.

"Jeffrey, my boy, you just might have a valid notion there. Get me the full dossier on the Beasley household, photographs included, for everyone, from the family down to the last scullery maid. Use my driver; he can run you over to Whitehall - it will all be there. Tell them Winslow gave the order; well, he DID promise every level of cooperation. He also said he'd be responsible for soothing any ruffled feathers later, should Lord Beasley develop any. When you get back, after that next briefing, I think I'll take a little trip down to Brandonshire. A little fresh air would probably do me a world of good. I'll be back before that last group has to be briefed."

Yes, that smile now stretched ear to ear, and even the most benevolent of observers would have discerned more than a little vindictive malice in those silver-grey eyes. Exactly where, or against whom, it was directed, well, not even Private Ames intended to inquire. There were just too many possibilities there. Jeffrey HAD wondered, before he made the suggestion, if this might not serve equally as well as a good round of cursing, and it seems he'd been right. The major was looking positively cheerful!

Garrison could tell this was going to be a hard sell. They were tired out from three back-to-back missions and the only thing he could have suggested that would have gotten their approval would have been the offer of a little R&R. 

Yes, he could and would order them to participate, of course, but it would be easier if he had their willing and wholehearted cooperation. However, so far nothing about the case as it had been presented to him and he relayed it to them had stirred a spark of interest. Not the attempted muggings, the top railing at that private dwelling that had so unaccountably given way and nearly sent Lord Beasley down a set of stairs, possibly towards a broken neck; the near-miss hit and run driver, even the family dinner that had nearly everyone in his household spending the night in the hospital with what was either food poisoning or perhaps poisoning of another sort. 

Chief was staring out the window, only taking an occasional glance back toward the table where Garrison was seated. He was listening, but not participating, running the blade of his knife along his sleeve repeatedly; pretty much the usual. 

Actor was the epitome of the polite aristocrat, never letting his eyes wander away from Garrison while he was talking, but Garrison could see that Actor's fingers kept caressing the leather cover to that volume of Regency poetry or else were playing with the stem of his pipe, and Garrison knew the conman was eagerly awaiting the time when he could resume his peaceful evening of reading. 

Goniff was seated crosswise in one of the easy chairs, back propped against one arm, legs slung over the opposite one. His attention seemed to be mainly on a small object he was turning around and around in his hands. Garrison couldn't see what he was playing with, but it was bound to be a shiny trinket or novelty of some kind. 

Casino, though, he was actively protesting them heading up to London to take on this little investigation for Major Richards.

"Yeah, so? Someone's trying to off the guy. Why's that OUR problem? They got coppers up in London, don't they? Ain't that kinda THEIR job?"

"In most cases, Casino, yes. But in this particular case, Lord Beasley is not only firmly on the upper rungs of the social ladder, he is also deeply involved at Whitehall, even has ties to the Palace. So far there have been no indications whether the attempts are personal or political, or linked to one of those 'special projects', maybe his latest project, one that Whitehall has listed as Top Secret. Since no one can agree whose responsibility it should, or should NOT be, and since the quarrelling between departments has gone on unresolved through a possible four attempts on Lord Beasley's life, some bright soul decided to dump it in Richards' lap, since he has neither political territory to protect or an ax to grind. And he, in turn -"

"Decided to dump it in our lap. Ruddy wonderful! Sometimes I think we need to find that bloke a 'obby, you know? Maybe find 'im an eager little skirt to keep 'im occupied. Send 'im out to 'is uncles' place to shoot some grouse or something. Ain't enough we keep getting sent out across the way on all kinds of blow-em-up, shoot-em-up capers, 'E just 'as to keep involving us in things that just ruddy well aren't any of our nevermind," Goniff complained, finally setting aside the shiny little silver box, one with emerald, ruby and diamond chips forming a lily design on the top, that he'd been fingering.

{"I don't remember seeing that before. I'd ask where he got it, but right now, I'm not sure I want to know,"} Garrison ruefully admitted to himself. Sometimes, with Goniff, it was just better that way.

Pulling his mind back to the project at hand, Garrison pulled out a file. 

"Now here are all the individuals in the Beasley household. It's a sizeable establishment. There's the family, Lord and Lady Beasley, four grown daughters from his first wife - he just re-married a year or so ago - his widowed sister and her son - and then the household staff." 

Spreading the pictures out drew even Chief's attention. It seems the Beasley household ran to lots of very attractive people. Well, Lord Beasley wasn't all that attractive, true, and while his sister might have been at one time, it wasn't a particularly recent time; now she looked much like her brother, right down to the receeding hairline, the embittered, downturned mouth and the wrinkles that came from years of frowning and complaining, not from smiling. 

Dark-haired Lady Beasley was perhaps twenty-five years of age, not much more; easily forty years younger than her husband, and she had a certain serene, if slightly sad and wistful beauty about her. The daughters, all blondes, seemed to range from late teens to thirty, each one, as the old saying goes, more attractive than the other.

"This is the nephew, Roderick Kilpatrick. He's the only other male relative, and he lives at the house." Another blond, he was equally attractive, with a smile of pure charm on his handsome face.

"And THIS lady?" Actor asked, tapping his finger on a picture set to one side. She was a blonde, like the daughters, but there the likeness stopped. This was one exceedingly lush armful, dressed in a slightly more provocative manner than the other women.

"That, Actor, is Grace Dovin. She is Lord Beasley's, um, 'friend'. She lives in a very nice house on the other end of the block that he pays the rent on."

Actor's brows raised in surprise. "He keeps his mistress THAT close to the family home? How unusual! I would think the opportunities for embarrassing encounters would be endless!"

Garrison replied dryly, "from what I gather, Lord Beasley doesn't HAVE embarrassing encounters, nor does he allow them. I imagine everyone has become quite expert in averting their eyes. He is more than a little indignant at how the recent events have cast him. He is unaccustomed to being caught in undignified situations, and he has made his feelings known far and wide."

"And the staff. We lucked out there. As closely connected as he is to Whitehall, they have current files AND photographs of the entire staff as well."

He gathered up the pictures, and spread the new ones across the table. Goniff leaned closer, separated them out with a quick movement of his skilled fingers, looked at the name and position paperclipped to each, then gave a knowing snort, pointing out what the other men had noticed as well. Well, he'd had stories from his mum, his Aunt Moll, seen enough on his own that none of this was any surprise to him.

"DOES like the pretty ones, don't 'e? Ruddy toff! Maids, 'ousekeeper, 'ousekeeper's assistant, right down to the jilly who runs the dust cloth around. Well, cept for Mrs. Blevins, and a smart man don't necessarily choose 'is cook for 'er looks. It's always nice if looks go along with, acourse, like with 'Gaida, but that's not the prime thing, not in the kitchen anyroad, unless you 'ave a liking for banging it out on the kitchen table."

No, Mrs. Blevins didn't fit the mold of the rest of the female staff, probably in her sixties, being easily twice any of their girth, grey hair put up in a tight bun on top of her head, but with a genial, grandmotherly look about her. 

"Look at the men on the staff, every one looks like he got slapped with an ugly stick," Chief commented. "Either that, or he's sixty or more."

Casino snickered, "guess he don't want anyone else sniffin' around, gettin anywhere with all those dames. Must be nice; think we can trade Sergeant Major and Jenkins and Perkins in on a couple 'staff' that look a little like THOSE broads, Warden?"

"Casino, discounting the four who are his daughters, one is his sister, and the rest are his employees. AND he has his wife there, and his mistress within a five minute walk. Why would you think -" Garrison stopped, flushed a little at the amused and slightly incredulous looks he was getting from all FOUR of his cons. 

Sometimes he felt like the only grownup in the room with these men; other times, like now, just with a word or a look, they could make him feel like a naive sixteen year old.

Actor sighed, bringing things back to the matter at hand, "so, there have been several attempts on his life. What can you tell us about those that you haven't already? And what is the plan to get us inside?"

Garrison suppressed a smile. Glancing around he could tell no one was opposing the idea anymore. Somehow, all those pictures of all those lovely women had turned the tide. 

In fact, after lights-out, the discussion got rather heated, though not in the angry sense, just in the topic. No one called dibs on any particular lady or ladies, but it was apparent that at least Casino intended to make some serious inroads into that female population. To hear HIM tell it, they NEEDED him, desperately, and he'd be a cruel man indeed, to keep them wanting!

"Can tell that by them pictures, can you, Pappy? Funny, I got the feeling they'd maybe prefer Goniff and me. Maybe even Actor, you never can tell."

"Yeah, Casino. Think Chiefy 'as something there. Sides, can't put ALL the 'eavy lifting on you; just wouldn't be fair," Goniff snickered.

Actor stayed serenely above the increasingly vulgar discussion that was going on, but he personally thought he stood a much better chance than any of the other three - well, how could there be any doubt??! Of course, he would never attempt one of the staff, but there were certainly others who would be eligible to receive his more sophisticated attentions. 

Admittedly, Goniff and Chief were mostly just talking, egging Casino on in his lofty ambitions, ready to be there to burst his bubble at the first opportunity. After all, it didn't seem too likely that Garrison would let any of them just swank through the bedrooms of that stately house. Maybe, just maybe Actor could get away with a little hanky-panky, but not the rest of them. Yeah, it was going to be fun to watch when Casino came up empty.

Their entry to the house was met with mixed approval. Obviously Lord Beasley was torn between relief at help arriving, dismay at these particular five men as being the source of that help, and sheer indignation at the buzz of interest they were arousing in the women in the household. The calm professionalism being shown by Lieutenant Garrison helped somewhat, and other than issuing a few severe warnings in various directions, Lord Beasley resigned himself to the necessity for this invasion by five far too good-looking men in their prime.

In fact, he decided one of the men would do quite well in a different role. His secretary/assistant had just resigned, the third in the past sixteen months, and he was reluctant to bring a stranger into the household until the current matter was resolved. Lord Beasley had taken one look at Actor, right up front, heard just a few sentences of that suave Italian accent, correctly assessed the man's level of sophistication, and immediately determined that was the man who was to be his personal, and constant, companion. That was killing two birds, oh, maybe even three, with one stone. A solid competent guard to protect him, one that could hardly fail to impress anyone who came into contact with the sophisticated Italian, AND a role that kept the man firmly away from any and all of the females in the household. 

Actor had been left wearing a polite expression that almost, if not entirely, hid the deep disgruntlement he was feeling. Actually, by the time they'd been there a few days, he was seething with frustration.

So far he had assisted Lord Beasley in negotiating a new grazing contract with two adjoining landowners (totally to Beasley's benefit, of course), had witnessed two contracts that he was sure the other parties didn't truly understand the negative implications of, had stood outside of the bedroom where the lord had frantically, but unsuccessfully, tried to consummate his supposed devotions to the beautiful Grace Dovin. 

His only consolation was that, as fruitless as he was finding his current situation, at least as far as feminine companionship was concerned, his plebian teammates would be finding things even less to their liking. No, quite unconceivable, that they would succeed where he had not.

What Actor wasn't taking into consideration was that he wasn't THERE to provide any competition, and had basically left the field wide open for his teammates to romp through.

And one of them, at least, really WAS romping - through the field, the house, the family and the staff. 

Casino wasn't sure if he was in Heaven or Hell. If you'd asked him a week ago when they'd first arrived, he'd have sworn it was Heaven, especially with Actor out of the running, but now, he was about to go up with the window shades!

So far every approach he had made, save two, had been successful. He'd cuddled, he'd coaxed, he'd done every damned thing imaginable, even some he'd never even imagined before, not even with his highly-eclectic library of magazines! He'd fucked close to every female in the house. He'd even chatted up the widowed sister, not that he had any interest, but he figured it was his duty. It seemed a shame to leave her out. Still, he was just as glad she'd squealed and ran away to hide in her room. Well, she didn't have anything to worry about; he sure wasn't gonna chase her! 

He'd even made a warm suggestion or two to the cook, Mrs. Blevins. All that had gotten him was a hearty laugh and a smack on the top of his head with a wooden spoon, along with a jolly "go try that malarkey on one of the girls. Maybe one of THEM's fool enough to believe you! Now away with you! I've got bread to be putting on to rise; I don't have time to please your ego or anything else!"

And, after Actor reported back about Lord Beasley's most recent pitiful performance the evening before, Casino had even made his way down to that house at the end of the block. Seems Grace Dovin wasn't the sort to squeal and run away, nor was she the type to laugh in his face at his come-on. No, she'd been glad to pull him through the door and into her bed, almost before he'd spun his tale of what he was doing at her door in the first place. 

Now, that had been something else! She was one energetic broad, and knew every trick in the book. He'd thought to stay longer, maybe go another round, making it a solid three, but then she'd glanced at the clock and hurried him back into his clothes and pointed him in the direction of the kitchen door. He'd waited and watched while someone else came in the side door. Casino slipped back in to take a listen, and boy, did he have one hell of a report to take back to Garrison. 

Now, given a few other little morsels of information that had come to light, he figured they were pretty close to wrapping things up; shouldn't take the Warden long to pull all the pieces together. That meant his time in this rabbit warren of lovely needy women was coming to an end.

{"Now, who HAVEN'T I given a good time yet? The old fart's wife, yeah, but she won't let me get close; you hardly ever see her, even. Besides, he probably has her all locked up in one of those chastity belt thingamajigs. The youngest daughter, Anna? Thought she was getting all hot and bothered about the Limey, but seems that didn't work out. Damn fool's so busy keeping track of what I'm doing, when he's not running errands for the Warden, he's not taking care of his OWN business, getting him a little of the sweet stuff while he's got the chance. Look how he didn't even pick on how that Mollie dame was coming on to him; just let me step up and take over. Well, that's his loss. Yeah, maybe Anna. Then, maybe Jill again; those legs of hers just go on and on!"}

Frankly, though he'd never admit it out loud, he'd give a hundred bucks for a few hours in a bed he could have to himself, maybe get some much needed sleep, but with Goniff keeping tabs, probably keeping score, he felt the pressure to keep going. 

{"Wonder how the Indian's doing? Haven't seen him around much. Hell, probably spending his time trying to dig information out of the butler and the other guys around here. One a these days, we're gonna have to get that kid some serious action; he's gonna forget what everything's for, like the Warden seems to, if he's not careful."}

And how WAS Chief doing? From what Goniff could tell, he was doing just fine, and didn't seem to be having any trouble at all remembering what everything was for. 

The pickpocket smirked, remembering how it all started. That first night, Laura, Lady Beasley, had accepted the politely flattering words of the tall Italian with strained equanimity. His attentions left her most uncomfortable, especially since she knew her husband was watching every move. It was much the same as with the more brash looks she'd gotten from the handsome, if decidedly less polished, dark-haired man earlier. 

She'd spent most of the past ten years being either chased or, more recently, being displayed like a piece of rare art. While both had been flattering, for a brief period of time, both had grown old, boring, and unsatisfying in the extreme. She wanted, needed, something else, something more, if only just once before she dried up and became an old woman. The way things were going, that drying up process would be completed long before she reached her next birthday.

Somehow, searching the room for something else to focus her attention, her eyes found equally dark eyes, not brazen, self-confident ones like the ones of the man so busy praising her, but ones that seemed somehow both young and eternally ancient. She found herself caught by that gaze, and smiled welcomingly without even thinking about it, but found herself startled that he didn't seem eager to follow-up, even turned his eyes away. 

Again and again it happened, that quick meeting of the eyes, then his distancing himself. Then, she knew. Unlike anyone else she'd ever met, this time SHE would have to be the one to reach out, for he wouldn't. But would it be worth it, worth the risk? Somehow, glancing over at the dark young man, she thought it just might be.

Now, in the dim light of the bedsitting room behind the conservatory, the one lamp illuminating the bed, their adjoined bodies, dark against pale, masculine against feminine, she knew she had been right. This was worth the risk! This man, although only destined to be hers for a brief time (and she had no illusion as to that! Frankly, she had no illusions of any kind, not since her father had basically sold her to Beasley in repayment for a political favor), was worth any risk, for, from this brief period of time, a lifetime of memories were possible, memories that would sustain her through years that she could foresee as being as dry and barren as a drought-filled summer. At least she would have this to remember, the heat, the passion! Yes, she would take every advantage of this opportunity!

Got so if Garrison sent Goniff to find Chief, Goniff just made straight for that back parlor/bedsitter, the one tucked in behind the not-much-used conservatory. He'd scuffle his feet a little, give a quiet cough, lean up against the wall, and a few minutes later, at least usually no more than fifteen or twenty, Chief would appear beside him. Well, a time or two, it had taken longer, but Goniff figured the young man had come as quickly as he could and still be polite about it. Couldn't go leaving a lady wanting, now could he? That just wouldn't be right.

Goniff was pleased to see that Craig Garrison, trying to ramrod the whole diverse mish-mash and fit all the pieces of the puzzle together, had kept his own hands, along with the rest of him, to himself, despite various overtures from both household and family members. 

It had been even funny, in a way, how briskly any such overtures were handled. What Casino or Actor would have looked at as 'opportunities', Craig seemed to see mostly as 'annoying interruptions', or maybe, at best, 'information gathering possibilities'. Goniff kinda liked it that way, too.

While the pickpocket had never much considered himself the jealous or possessive type, he'd not too long ago figured out that was only because he'd never before had anyone important enough to him to be jealous or possessive ABOUT. Now that had changed, and hadn't THAT been an eye-opener! Now, he didn't much care for the idea of Craig OR Meghada looking elsewhere, or others looking at THEM too closely either.

Well, except on the job, when now and again certain sacrifices had to be made. Even Goniff himself had occasionally had to make the 'ultimate sacrifice' of satisfying some needy woman. Meghada had seen the pure reason of that, when he'd explained the particulars, or at least that was what she'd said that time Casino had let it slip. He preferred to believe that, anyway; he purely didn't want to be on her bad side. A real temper she had, and no more subtle about showing it than she was about anything else.

And partly for that reason, he'd contented himself with just charming the jolly cook, Mrs. Blevins, getting various tidbits and oddments, both food and information, out of that task. 

Oh, he'd had his own opportunities for a nice bit of toss and tickle, but if he was preferring Craig to keep his hands off the dollies, it was only fair that he did the same. So he'd just gently declined the offer from the YOUNGEST daughter of the household, though twenty-year-old Anna really was quite a lovely little thing. The more brazen overtures from Mollie, the upstairs maid, were even easier to walk away from; besides, he knew Casino was right around the corner, ready to take up the slack, so to speak.

Frankly, Goniff had been curious to see just when Casino would collapse from exhaustion, what with all the exercise and lack of sleep.

Unfortunately, at least in some respects, the mystery was solved before the safecracker reached that critical point. Goniff had a lovely little bet going on with himself, and weren't those the best kind? I mean, either way, he'd win!

Garrison was kept busy putting all the bits and pieces together, all the scraps of information he and his men kept coming across. It ran the gamut from the man's personal affairs, his family relationships, his business dealings, his strained relationships with the neighbors as well as his quarrels with just about everyone he came into contact with.

Frankly, as unpleasant as Lord George Beasley was, Garrison wasn't surprised someone was trying to kill him - was more surprised no one had managed it years ago. 

"I can just see it, somewhat like that Christie novel, 'Murder on the Orient Express', the whole damned household joining together to get rid of him," he'd joked quietly to Goniff. "Could probably even get more than a few of the neighbors to join in, maybe a lot of others too."

"Wouldn't that be something?" Goniff said, shaking his head. "Could ruddy well see it 'appening, though. Sitting up 'ere like a sheik, surrounded by all the lovelies, acting like they're not even real live people, just another of 'is 'collections'. Thinking that makes 'im look like 'e's some Valentino or maybe Don Juan, 'stead of some old rooster with a limp comb 'anging down. Even the daughters can't go out walking with someone, even talking to anyone likely, without 'im getting all bent outta shape!"

Garrison gave an amused hmmmmph, "reflected glory, I suppose. Still, it turned out to be something a lot less complicated than a mass effort, thankfully. We can wrap it up quickly now. Where are the others?"

"Oh, out and about, as usual, giving their all for the job. Ought to get 'azard pay for this one; Casino's starting to look a little peaky around the edges from the strain."

Garrison gave Goniff a skeptical look. Somehow that cocky sly grin didn't point in the direction of that 'strain' coming from ferreting out clues, though a goodly number of those bits of information HAD come from the safecracker.

"Nevermind, I'm probably better off not knowing. I need you to slip out and get to Richards. Tell him it's not a Whitehall affair after all; tell him what we've found out. He'll need to take those two into custody before they get wise and take off. Lucky you saw that firebug last night, could tell what he was up to. Nabbing him, having him give us confirmation of who hired him, that was the final piece of the puzzle."

"Gotta say, they're a right pair. Can see 'er wanting someone a little more lively than ole 'Beastly', but with that fancy 'ouse and the allowance and jewels and everything else she was getting, think she'd 'ave maybe got w'at 'e WASN'T providing somewhere other than with 'is nephew. And 'IM, not being satisfied with tupping the old bastard's ladybird in addition to 'is own nice allowance and lodgings and all, deciding 'e might as well scoop the whole lot by offing 'im and coming into the title and 'is inheritance now rather than later."

Garrison didn't disagree with that summation. "He didn't seem too worried about hurting anyone else in order to claim that title and inheritance, either. The earlier attempts might have targeted just Lord Beasley, but the poison ended up on the family dinner table, and the whole family AND the staff could have been killed in that fire, along with all of us, of course. Not just his uncle, but his uncle's wife, his cousins, even his own mother."

"Ain't all that bright, still; any smart bloke from Scotland Yard would know 'e was worth a second look. Well, only makes sense. The poison being in the one dish that was 'is uncle's favorite, something the rest liked well enough, but 'e 'just didn't particularly care for'; the fire 'appening on a night when everyone else was to 'ome, but 'e was out on the tiles. Maybe 'e just didn't care, or maybe 'e didn't want any 'angers-on left to share with when 'e got 'is fingers in the till."

Epilogue One:

"Ruddy toff! We saved the whole ruddy lot of them - even that final try with Willie The Torch was intended to take out the whole family, pretty much, saving the nephew. And that was after the 'it-and-run attempts, the mugging attempt and a few other things that first brought it all to Richards' attention.

"You'd think there would be some gratitude there, wouldn't you? Saved the whole flippin 'ousehold, Lord and Lady, the rest of the family, the entire staff (well, except for that cheeky nephew and the Lord's mistress who were behind the whole ruddy mess!).

"But no! Lord 'Beastly', 'e'd been downright rude, start to finish! Particularly at the finish!"

Even Major Richards had been taken aback by that snappish, "very well, it's done! You have the ones responsible, Major, and they've been turned over to the authorities. Now, if you would be so kind as to get these - these - PERSONS out of my house! And should such an occurrence happen again, I would hope you would use better judgement in deciding who to send to deal with it!"

The man had been most reluctant to go into any details, though, just glared at all of them, though perhaps at Casino and Chief more than the others. Yes, certainly at those two.

Everyone figured Richards would be asking them some pretty strict questions, but for some reason, he hadn't, at least not yet, though that might be yet to come. For some odd reason, the officer seemed more than a little pleased, a little amused, though you'd not think that would be the case, as pissed as Beasley obviously was. 

So, alright, Casino HAD managed to diddle most, maybe ALL of the female staff, plus the oldest Beasley daughter, and the man's scheming mistress who lived in the house at the end of the block. Goniff wasn't positive about the other three daughters, but he wouldn't have bet against the possibility. Casino had been demonstrating what Garrison had once called a real 'do or die' determination, though of course Craig had been talking about clearing out a German machine gun nest, not bedding nearly every female in the whole ruddy house, but still. 

But there was one bed the safecracker HADN'T managed to get into, and Goniff was getting more than a little amusement out of that, would get more than a little enjoyment in letting their brash safecracker know about, when the time was right.

Yes, though it was out of character for the youngest of the team, Chief was the one who had had somehow gained the attentions of LADY Beasley, pretty dark-haired Laura, and not just once, but pretty damned consistently. The relatively-new Lady Beasley seemed to find Chief's rather reserved manner far more intriguing than Casino's 'lay it all out there' charm, and certainly more appealing than her husband, or even Actor's suave attractions.

Seems Actor had come up totally dry, being stuck at Beasley's shoulder the whole time. There was just something so satisfying about that idea, Goniff couldn't keep from chuckling at the notion.

Of course, Garrison and Goniff had also been without female companionship for the whole time, but neither of them had found that a particular hardship, and Garrison would have even considered it an annoying distraction from the job at hand. Goniff wouldn't have called it THAT, necessarily, but fair was fair, after all. 

At the end, listening to that stiff-rumped toff basically kicking them out of the house, Goniff had wanted to hiss up at him like an angry cat. While he had to admit maybe Lord 'Beastly' had some small reason to be a little miffed, all that steamy activity under his roof and thereabouts, and him not getting any of it, there hadn't been any call to be THAT rude about it! 

So, when that little crystal paperweight just happened to catch his eye; when he heard that high shivery voice that crystal always had when it called his name? He didn't think twice, just tucked it into his pocket on his way out the door, following close behind Craig, his other three teammates right alongside.

He'd be more than glad to be back at the Mansion, back in more familiar surroundings. Mayfair was a nice place, and all, and Mrs. Blevins a fine cook, but still, he never HAD much fancied the toffs. Likely to get their backs up about the least little thing, they did! Well, if you had any doubts about it, you only had to look at this little bit, didn't you? Rude, positively rude, and hardly any reason for it at all!!

Epilogue Two:

"Mrs. Blevins! Coo, imagine bumping into you 'ere!"

Well, Glasgow was a long way from London, after all; HE wouldn't have been there if they weren't on some more 'not really our business but we're stuck with it' nonsense from Major Richards. 

He plopped himself down on the park bench next to her, and the two chatted on for awhile, her telling him of the family having relocated to Glasgow earlier that year.

"Well, most of us, anyway. Two of the young ladies, Janice and Louise, are married now, to fine young men, and they're back in London. So there's only Jessica and Anna still with us, and Jessica's to be married within the month, and I suspect Anna's not far behind. Local men, both of them, so they'll be close enough to visit, so we're happy about that."

"Did Lord 'Beastly' lose 'is taste for London, then? Or did someone catch on to some of 'is ways? And 'e didn't kick up a fuss about the girls marrying? Didn't see 'im ever going along with that!"

"Oh, he wouldn't have, either of those things, but George Beasley isn't the Lord anymore," Mrs. Blevins told him with a wide smile. "We have a new one, and couldn't be more pleased with him, I assure you. Here, let me introduce you."

Goniff had pretty well ignored the young teenage girl at the other end of the bench, but at a word from Mrs. Blevins, the spindly youngster reached into the carriage at her side, and carefully brought out a small form in a tiny sweater and pants, handing it over to Mrs. Blevins.

"Here you go, Goniff, meet Henry Asher Aidan Beasley, the NEW Lord Beasley. Lord 'Beastly' as you called him, lost his temper one time too many, burst a vessel in his head. Well, you know how it works; there was no male heir, and no provisions for a female one. 

"I don't know what would have become of the whole lot of us, Miss Laura -Lady Beasley, and the daughters and everyone else in the house. Luckily, our dear Laura was just a little on her way to giving us our sweet mite here. Such a blessing he is to us, in so many ways. 

"Of course, she's not Lady Beasley anymore; married a very nice man about a month ago, her childhood sweetheart, in fact. Happy as clams they are, and intending to give our young Lordship here lots of brothers and sisters to play with. 

"Here," she urged, holding out the small infant, "isn't he just precious? Such lovely eyes, too. Lucky he takes after his mother, her dark hair and all, rather than Lord 'Beastly', and I DO like that name for him, you know. It describes George Beasley so well! 

"Now, this little one, his names fit quite well too. Henry, being the ruler or head of the household; Asher meaning happy fortune; and Aidan, meaning warmth, or maybe fire. There were those who told Miss Laura she should be calling him George, or one of the other family names, but she wasn't having any of that. No, it was to be Henry Asher Aidan Beasley, and no buts about it!"

Goniff carefully bounced the babe on his knee, nodding firmly at what Mrs. Blevins had just told him. Squinting down, head cocked to one side, he smiled and then smiled some more.

"And right she was. Why, anyone can see 'e aint a 'George', nothing like. Right 'andsome lad, too. Right nice smile, too," looking into dark eyes that seemed to hold some hidden amusement, a smile that was ever so familiar. 

"And Miss Laura, you say she's 'appy, no problems there? If there was anything needed, you could tell me, could do something, you know."

"Oh, she's just as happy as can be; she was due to be old before her time, married to THAT one, but now, she's back to being a young woman again, in love with her husband, cherishing her babe. 

"Well, we must be headed back. You give our regards to those nice friends of yours; maybe tell them how fondly we remember them? Particularly that nice boy with the sweet smile; he was a quiet one, but he left a deep impression, you know. Yes, we all think of him quite fondly."

Goniff got to his feet, said his goodbyes, and headed back to the hotel. By the time he had gotten there, he was grinning from ear to ear. 

"Lord 'enry Asher Aidan Beasley. Now don't that beat all! Bet everyone's gonna be right interested in 'earing all about that."

And they were, and if there was a touch of wistfulness in Chief's eyes when they all lifted a glass in honor of the newest Lord Beasley, there were no shadows attached, and his smile was as genuine as all the others.


End file.
